


Forget the Daydreams

by InSchadenfreude



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Love, Obsession, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2014-08-19
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:23:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2165688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InSchadenfreude/pseuds/InSchadenfreude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Infatuation can be a hinderance but a blessing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget the Daydreams

It’s as if I were trapped between the smoking darkness of my body’s chemical reactions and the slender black trails of my own mental attraction.  
There’s something off inside… or is it just something about him in general that’s taking me that second too long to judge without my heart kicking in.  
I tried to contemplate all my twisting emotions as they came and sat with me; greed tapping me on the shoulder and offering me the luxuries in the bottom of the glass, laden with dreams and deathly intoxicating passion that forced and kicked the sharp curves of his contours into my eyes.  
Lust greeted me much the same, shoving skin on skin with coercing moans and violent imagery within my head.  
In rationalisation I ignored them, choosing to accompany Coy and Pessimism as they rubbed their slender fingers against their palms and talked in strange yet surprisingly comprehensible ways to Depression and Instability. 

...The foul stench of ethanol entwined with my breath as I argued with them in silence and felt the drops of sloppy liquid escaping from the glass onto my hand...

Who are you...

I saw them all turn to me. Answering in every way that my sentence and, possible, question could have been portrayed. 

We are you.  
You are us.  
He is either exactly what you want him to be or just another disappointment.

The pits where their eyes would've been repeated their words with such intensity that I dared not acknowledge them completely;  
Even if the truth was what i searched for  
It’s not what I wanted in the end

 

The next day I sat opposite him, feeling the banging in my head as the poison from the night before kept my demons with me; all sat around my inner table as Infatuation took the head chair and argued nonstop with Sensibility...  
However, even with my ailment I successfully deemed it inappropriate to explore and converse with anyone, let alone him, until my cursed hangover shut the door and left me clear headed with only Intelligence for company.

...Yes, who are you...?  
That foreign man that pulls me in without annunciating a single word. Your tight fitting coat that somehow still leaves room for imagination, no matter how much Lust pleads internally for it to spontaneously combust, and Etiquette pretends to be shocked.  
It’s only as he looks in my direction that I see all eyes on me and realise I’ve been sniggering alone to myself in my odd daydreams... A searing warmth stung in my face as my attempt to calm myself became almost futile in those long seconds, but people are quick to be disinterested in my reasoning; their basic human behaviour saving me from my distress.

 

 

...Another moon goes by, replaced by it’s equal counterpart; the eye burning sun puts a strain on my sight as the people I still, somehow barely know, work together in unison around me. After all, it’s what we're hired to do; as mercenaries we get paid for what we do best, and as per the title, what we do best is killing. In particular, killing _them_ , the collection of slightly less, but still undeniably unstable fighters, hired by the Builders League United.

On the battlefield I felt the session quickly coming to an end, though satisfyingly, as we found ourselves closer to winning and pushing them back another day, but in my constant daydreaming my concentration decided to elude me, trying instead to reconcile with anticipated incompatibility and rejection from my obsession. Why is it so hard? Just break a conversation for god’s sake…

 

...I could barely feel the pain as I relayed over the torn, flayed muscle in my arm: the distinctive wounds of the kukri that pulled itself through my skin and raced it's way towards the bone. My eyes scoured over the blood at a strange distance, my mind slowly failing in consciousness and being caught and fought over by each of the glitchy emotions that had become prominently over-familiar with me in the past few months.  
The signals to my limbs lacked precision as adrenaline kicked me away from my personification's dark frantic hands and brought me back to try and block the attack again...  
Searing pain scorched in my wrist after I failed to bring anything between my numbing petal-peeled skin and the stainless steel blade clenched betwixt it. In this red glazed eternity I continued pushed death away, even when I felt him push back twice as hard and rip cold metal from my bones...

Now was not the time to argue over a now seemingly petty obsession as my lungs called for aid, crying “Medic”, or any words to that effect, in a comically angry haze as my mind reset to laughter; eyesight condensing into tunnel vision and guiding me against my attacker as I found myself too angry to feel the pain hitting each corner of my body. 

 

Unfortunately, even if I were to win in my proud retaliation I would inevitably die from blood loss... but as facts go, I find you tend to faint before that takes you, and at a very inconvenient time too…

 

 

 

Fragments of memories gradually untwisted from the spiderweb of broken glass within my mind; deceptively slowly but fastening as self awareness hit me with pain and regret in a similar feeling to knuckledusters being forced into the centre of my uncauterised wounds.  
In my cognitive state I clenched my teeth and caged a curling scream behind them, opening my eyes to the un-perfect white ceiling above me as I tried to create the sequence between my blackout and awaking here. The roof's dark stains brought some comfort in my memories as I realised my whereabouts and looked down to the familiar scene beside me; the infirmary’s dark corners echoed metaphors as I tied them to the doctor himself and brought a harsh chuckle from my chest, although I quickly regretted doing so as the sting of my body pleaded against moving to any degree,

but, somewhat, Medic was appreciative

at least, for not dying...

“Zhank Gott you’re avake. I zhought I vas far too late, but I love to be proved vrong in deise sachlage."  
It didn’t matter that I never understood his language; the slurs of his defined accent ruled his words as he spoke, but even so I felt more relaxed for it; softly smiling towards the ceiling as I tried not to breathe.  
Moving at all brought tearing sensations from all over my body and having to compensate for my lungs made it increasingly difficult not to feel it...  
With this I found myself using my condition as an excuse not to talk to him but as Medic continued to speak to me I felt obligated. I knew in his history, in any doctors history, he would have been trained to keep conversation with his patient, even when unconscious- …  
I thought about that for a while.  
Did he talk the whole time I was incapacitated? If he did it made me feel even more embarrassed that I hadn’t verbally replied to any of his conversation, but it was just part of his job, right?  
My lips made a move to part and speak but were stopped abruptly by a paralysing mix of agony and flustering as his soft hands examined the wound closest to my chest.  
It isn’t as though he hadn’t been there before, it being obligatory to receive an experimental heart transplant from him, but… I could see, even in this strained position, that the cuts in my clothing hadn’t exactly been courteous…  
I wouldn’t call myself lucky for still having some dignity, as it felt as though I had nothing at all. All my attire clung to my body like a second layer of blood-soaked skin and would ideally have to be partially removed for an analysis of the full extent of my condition. Although, I hoped Medic would just use the medi-gun like he did all those other times...  
Only then, in paranoia, did I find the conclusion as a test for my heart rate.  
My eyes widened as I looked to his accomplished smile, a curve that spoke seductive success as what little blood I had flourished into my cheeks and made me light headed in his company.  
“Intelligent… Bastard…” I felt each syllable pinch in my chest as he chuckled and removed his hand.  
“I had my suspicions.”  
The proud tone in his words made my eyes narrow, nonetheless, it was more in calculation of what he would proceed to do with his confirmation...  
The doctor’s brow raised at my expression, but his heart-clenching smirk stayed fixed in his features, “Oh, don’t be like zhat. I’m sure you vere planning somezhing much more embarrassing.”  
I groaned slightly at his presumption but it couldn’t reject that it was true; doing this ‘the old fashioned way’ would’ve been both painful and humiliating, in a slight but significant variation to how I am now…  
As I looked him over, Medic turned towards the misty machine he hung beside me; it’s powerful glow adding to the prided atmosphere of his talents that excelled in both saving and killing people.  
At one time I would have described the doctor's view on it as worthy of a trophy, but as he handled it now his focus clearly stayed on me, and it made me uncertain whether to feel excited or fearful of that attention…  
Medic leaned overhead and the scorch of pain hit me again, his catch on my wounds provoked a hitch from my breath as my eyes clenched shut and fought my own reactions to the pain, but it didn't pulled all my attention...  
In my distraction he caught me, his lips pressed against my own as the feeling cascaded down my spine and filled every aspect of my consciousness. The medi-gun whirred in the background as it washed over us and echoed his soft touch as Medic's fingers bound around my arm; the pain of the wound that had been there now sent electric feelings to my skull and entwined with the passion of his kiss...  
His lips parting mine reiterated my addiction, wanting more and more, whilst I realised I could move. In that, it didn’t take long for my hands to return him to me, pulling him against me as I pushed up against him in a struggle to satisfy the panicked urge taking my mind and body.  
The touch of his hands wandering over me ignited fire on my skin, and before I could comprehend my actions I'd reacted to it, tearing my hands beneath his shirt as our lust collided within our mouths.  
I quickly got his appreciation, his strong grip ripping off what was left of my red tinted uniform and leaving me laid bare before his vigorous exploration.  
His fingers coerced moans from my body, slipping into my entrance and teasing my pleasure as I felt his other hand brush against my skin and move quickly to discard of his own clothing.  
There was barely any time between feeling his moist fingers slide out and being filled up with his hot lust as he pushed into me, pulling us upright; bare; chest to chest as he held my thighs and forced up and down. The pleasure ignited through me, pulsing stronger and faster as his hips drove into mine. My moans merged with his as he came closer to the edge, kissing violently as his finger nails dug into me and pushed me back onto the surgery table.  
As our tongues parted he moved to my shoulder, biting down as I moaned into his ear and felt him thrusting rapidly faster as I began to reach my limit. My body clenched and fingers tore at his back as I came; Medic’s muffled groan reverberated through his chest, his pace peaking in speed before I felt his warmth gushing inside me as he pushed deep and slowed, holding me tightly against himself.

As we lay there panting neither one of us dared move, too caught up in the moment to want to comprehend our actions; after several minutes had gone by he turned to me; Medic's vibrant blue eyes peering through me in a silent bond of mind as he slowly and hesitantly pressed his soft lips into my own.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to correct my grammar/spelling as i do not speak german.
> 
> Gott: God  
> Deise Sachlage: These Circumstances


End file.
